


touch starved

by envysparkler



Series: Amplector [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Batfamily (DCU), Cuddle Pollen, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Touch-Starved, and he gets them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27411184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/envysparkler/pseuds/envysparkler
Summary: Dick has a whole family who would rather stab him or themselves before embracing him, and he respects their boundaries, but sometimes he just wants a hug he doesn’t have to beg for.
Relationships: Batfamily Members & Dick Grayson
Series: Amplector [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2114211
Comments: 221
Kudos: 1766
Collections: escapism (to forget that the world is a burning hellscape)





	touch starved

**Author's Note:**

> In which the author blatantly projects her desire for human touch on poor, unsuspecting characters.

Dick has always been a tactile person. Their act at the circus involves leaps and twirls and arms holding tight and minute adjustments. People ruffle his hair as he twists through the crowds, and swings from arms, and gets a boost up to whatever he’s exploring. He has two parents who love him very much, and a whole circus to call a family. He laughs as an elephant trunk curls around him and plays with stray kittens. He is warm and safe and happy.

He was.

* * *

There is a man in a cape and bat ears and his arms are locked around Dick and it’s the only warm thing left because everything else has gone so cold.

* * *

Living with Batman is a lot of fun. Dick misses the circus, misses the people – the Manor is cold and silent and empty and Dick does his best to fill it with light and laughter and maybe a couple of broken chandeliers, he’s still testing out the structural integrity of the furniture and he’s never been the kind of person who’s able to sit still – but on good days, it doesn’t hurt so much.

On good days, he hugs Alfred and gets head pats, he leaps from railings and staircases and the tops of bookshelves to be caught by Bruce. Bruce never initiates hugs, never holds his arms wide open and waits for Dick to jump into them, but he never fails to catch Dick, so it’s practically the same thing.

Batman doesn’t give hugs, but he does curl his cape around Robin like the world’s best blanket, soft and warm and _safe_.

On bad days, he misses his parents so much it hurts, and he crawls into Bruce’s bed and curls up as the man hums and strokes a hand through his hair, almost the way his mother used to, and the words aren’t the same and the language is wrong and they never had silk sheets in the circus, but it’s enough for Dick to pretend.

And slowly, the coldness heals. He has a father and a grandfather and even though neither of them are very good at showing affection, Dick is exuberant enough to make up for their awkwardness. He’s good at making friends and giving hugs and people say that being in his presence is standing in the sun. He is warm and he gives out warmth, and there is nothing more that Dick wants in the world than making sure everyone smiles.

* * *

He is fourteen when he learns that _not saying no_ and _saying yes_ are two different things.

He observes Bruce and Alfred for a week – neither of them ask him for a hug, neither raise their arms and look at him expectantly, neither invite him to curl up close and bask in the warmth. 

By the time Bruce starts giving him confused looks, Dick has decided upon a new course of action. He asks.

“Bruce, can I have a hug?”

The man blinks at him in faint surprise, but half-lifts an arm – “Sure, chum.” – and Dick jumps at the opportunity.

“Alfred, may I give you a hug?”

The man stops and stares and lifts an eyebrow before his face relaxes – “Of course, Master Dick.” – and Dick wraps his arms around him and holds on tight.

* * *

Dick gets older. He’s giddy with the high of being a vigilante, with being Batman’s Robin and being on the Teen Titans, he’s surrounded by people who love him and he’s doing what he loves most in the world and it feels like everything should be _perfect_.

But it isn’t.

Robin chafes under Batman’s restrictions and all Dick and Bruce do is argue. Bruce is intent on planning his whole life out for him, and Dick has never done well with cages. The curl of Batman’s cape around him starts feeling less like security and more like a prison.

Bruce never says no when Dick asks for a hug. But Dick stops asking.

* * *

Everything hurts, broken bones twist under his skin and the pain flares, he can barely see out of one eye and his heartbeat is too fast and he groans as he’s shifted, the movement tugging at still-bleeding wounds.

“Bruce?” Dick asks hazily as the painkillers kick in. The dark shadow stops moving. “Can I have a hug?”

Warm arms around him, tears dripping into his hair, and a low, broken growl, “This will _never_ happen again.”

* * *

The next day, Bruce locks up the Robin suit and Dick storms out.

* * *

The Manor feels colder now. Less like home, more like the mausoleum it was when he first came. Dick doesn’t want to be here, but Bruce has a new kid – a new _Robin_ , his mind spits furiously – and Alfred asked politely and Dick is very good at keeping a smile on his face even when he wants to scream.

The kid glares at him when Dick flops down on the couch. He looks like he’s in a bad mood, his face scrunched up in a frown as he curls up tightly in the chair, and Dick regards him quietly.

“Hey,” he says, “Do you want a hug?”

The kid stares at him. The kid snarls some choice curses. The kid makes it extremely clear that he won’t touch Dick if Dick was the last person on the planet. The kid storms from a room, like he’s expecting Dick to try and hug him anyway.

Dick takes the hint.

* * *

Bruce has apparently learned how to show affection, because Jason gets head ruffles and warm hands on shoulders and, on occasion, an awkward one-armed hug. Dick forces his seething anger under wraps and keeps smiling.

Bruce has not, though, realized how much affection Jason actually _wants_. Dick sees it when he’s introducing Jason to the Teen Titans, he feels Jason’s heavy stare on his back as Dick warmly embraces the team and spins Kori off her feet and laughs when Wally nearly tackles him. He can see the droop in Jason’s shoulders once Dick finally extricates himself, can see the arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Dick doesn’t ask him if he wants a hug. He’s well aware of the answer he’ll get, he knows that Jason grew up in Crime Alley, and he knows that the kid thinks that asking for affection is a sign of weakness.

So Dick merely steps back to his side and half-raises an arm in wordless invitation, careful to keep his body language casual and unbothered.

Jason _slowly_ nudges into his side and accepts the arm around his shoulders, scowling all the while.

* * *

Dick never says a word about it, never asks or offers or calls attention to it, but every time he sees Jason, he opens his arms in a silent gesture. Jason doesn’t always take him up on it, but sometimes he does, sometimes Dick wraps his arms around his little brother and feels like family again.

* * *

The Manor is a mausoleum again.

“Do you – do you want a hug?”

“No.”

* * *

Little Tim Drake is _painfully_ lacking in physical affection – he gives Dick a wide-eyed, half-disbelieving look every time Dick leans in for an affectionate touch, and it causes something to burn in Dick’s heart. Dick has some very choice things to say to Tim’s parents, if he ever meets them.

Dick also has some choice things to say to Bruce, who’s become a complete robot, but Bruce won’t listen to him. Dick doesn’t care. Dick is here to teach Tim how to be Robin, and he’s not willing to drag Bruce out of the hole he insists on burying himself in.

Dick asks Tim whenever he wants a hug, accompanied by wide open arms and a beaming smile, and waits, always waits, because Tim is hesitant and quiet as he creeps close, as though it’s a trick, as though he has to believe, every time, that Dick won’t step away.

Dick holds the kid tight and swears that he won’t let anything happen to this little brother.

* * *

Stephanie Brown is _amazing_. She is unwilling to take any of Bruce’s bullshit, she’s fierce and defiant and brilliant, and sometimes she reminds Dick of Jason so much that it hurts. And she’s not shy.

Dick grins and catches her as she leaps towards him, twirling her in a brief embrace before sending her stumbling into Tim and watching both kids crash into the couch. The Manor feels like warmth again, Steph’s infectious cheer permeating the house. Tim is smiling, Bruce is growling, and Dick can feel something in his heart thaw.

He has a little sister and a little brother and a house full of laughter and it doesn’t matter that his father is stilted and cold and distant. Dick has always been good at dispensing affection, and under Steph’s influence, even Tim is bold enough to jump for the attack.

The kids pull him down onto the couch after them, and Dick laughs as they try to tickle him, catching a struggling little sibling in each arm as he vaults off the cushions.

* * *

Then the Black Mask happens. And another name is added to the list of villains that Dick wants dead, because Steph flinches whenever anyone gets too close.

Dick swallows down his rage and heads to a store and finds the biggest, most obnoxiously fluffy stuffed animal in the precise shade of purple he wants.

Steph’s face lights up in the first true smile he’s seen since she was captured, and she’s buried under the stuffed animal, her arms barely big enough to wrap around it, but she’s _smiling_ and it’s not okay but it will get better.

* * *

An assassin. Sure, okay, why not. They’ve always been an eclectic bunch anyway.

It takes Cassandra a long time to understand the concept of affection, to understand that a hug is not an attack, but Dick teaches her how to fly, how to leap and twist and catch your partner and swing with their momentum and it isn’t a hug, but where he grew up, they were one and the same.

It’s _trust_ , it’s Cass’s hands wrapping around his ankles as he twists up, it’s her fingers laced in his as he teaches her how to dance, it’s Bruce’s slowly thawing smile as he watches his children.

Two little sisters and a little brother and finally, _finally_ Dick feels like they’re a family again.

* * *

Jason is alive.

Jason is _alive_.

Jason is alive and he wants them all dead.

Nightwing slowly steps forward on the rooftop, his mouth dry, and extends his arms in a hopeful invitation.

The Red Hood shoots him in the shoulder.

* * *

It’s like a flip of the coin – heads, and the last piece of his family will slot into place, completing them. Tails, and everything will begin to fall apart.

Somewhere, Two-Face is laughing.

* * *

Dick barely has time to recover from the bombshell that Bruce has a biological son – _another_ assassin, but this one doesn’t like to dance and has the same attitude towards hugs as Jason, only with knives instead of guns – when Bruce dies, leaving him with three little brothers and two little sisters who are all emphatically not getting along.

Jason still shoots Dick whenever he gets too close, Cass disappears to Hong Kong instead of staying in the madhouse, Steph has some furious blow-up argument with Tim and Damian before she heads to Barbara, Tim is losing his mind and has started to retreat further and further from Dick, and Dick has no idea how to get Damian to stop carting his sword around everywhere.

Dick is desperate and out of options and he needs a way to keep Damian in the family and with all methods of physical affection ruled out, he uses what he thinks Damian will understand. A symbol. A tradition. _Robin_ means _family_ and it always has.

Tim does not take it well. Tim does not give Dick the chance to explain – he packs his bags and when Dick asks him for a hug before he leaves, Tim gives him a look that nearly flays him to the bone.

Dick crumples on his bed and stares at the ceiling. What has he _done_?

* * *

Bruce comes back. It solves everything, and nothing.

Everyone comes home, for a given definition of home – Jason still has his safehouses, Tim his Nest, Steph and Cass spend a lot of time at the Clocktower, but everyone gets ready for patrol in the Cave and Dick finally has the large family he lost when his parents died.

He twirls with Cass and tugs on Steph’s braids and takes missions with Jason and brings coffee to Tim and trains Damian and helps Bruce and _smiles_ because his family is all back and all alive and all together and asking for anything more is just greedy.

* * *

“Do you want a hug?” Dick asks, and once in a while, they will take him up on the offer.

_Can you give me a hug_ , he never asks, because a _no_ will break the last strands of composure he has left.

* * *

Sometimes Dick wants to find whoever decided to give Ivy a biochemistry degree and shake them. He doesn’t even know what set off her temper tantrum this time, but the vines she snaps out have jagged thorns and Dick doesn’t have to see the sheen in the streetlight to know that they’re poisoned.

Dick manages to avoid most of them with the ease of years of practice, dodging swiftly and escrima lashing out, but one catches him in the jaw, scraping across his unguarded face, and Dick hisses as the cuts immediately begin stinging.

Batman extracts him before the rest of the vines can catch him, and they run through the typical post-toxin check-up.

No, Dick isn’t hallucinating.

He’s not scared.

He’s a little pissed off, but it falls under annoyance and not rage.

He doesn’t feel dizzy or woozy or foggy. He can see and hear and speak perfectly fine. They extract a blood sample and Dick sits on the bed in the medbay and waits for the analysis to finish.

The only thing unusual is how _cold_ he feels.

Bruce brings him a blanket and checks his temperature, but everything seems fine.

* * *

The toxin, whatever it is, isn’t showing any side effects, and it’s degrading in Dick’s bloodstream. Tim predicts it’ll be gone entirely in a week. It isn’t the first time a Rogue messed up their chemical cocktail, and they all shrug it off.

Dick still feels cold. It’s probably just because of the onset of autumn. They’ve checked his temperature ten times now, and it’s perfectly normal.

* * *

Dick piles three blankets on his bed, and ends up shivering through the night.

* * *

He gets strange looks from Damian and Steph as he walks around wearing two hoodies and thick socks. Alfred asks him if he needs to increase the thermostat. Tim checks his temperature again, and stares at the number like it’s personally offending him.

Dick keeps the smile on his face. He’s _freezing_.

* * *

Dick turns the shower all the way to blistering hot. When he stumbles out, nearly suffocating in the steam, his skin has turned bright red.

Jason actually stops and stares at him in the hallway for a full two seconds before he shakes his head and walks away.

* * *

The cold has nothing to do with temperature. The chill is in his _soul_ , a hollow, deserted ache of loneliness. The cold is an absence, and no matter how many blankets he takes, it’s not enough to fill the void.

* * *

Movie night. The one time it was possible to get everyone in the same room with minimal bloodshed. Tim, Steph and Cass take the couch, Damian curls up in one armchair, Jason sprawls in another. Bruce is finishing up some work. Alfred is making snacks.

Dick takes a seat next to the fireplace, a blanket tucked around him. He _wants_ to sit on the couch, wants to sit between his siblings and feel their warmth and let it chase away the icicles growing inside of him, but he doesn’t trust his self-control. Not now.

If he sits with them, he’ll want to drape an arm over Steph’s shoulders and tug Tim into his lap and run fingers through Jason’s hair and none of them will let him do that so it’s best to avoid temptation.

He suppresses the shudder and tries to keep his attention on the movie. The fire is warm, but it’s not warm enough, it does nothing to the chill inside of him but it’s the only warmth he has, and Dick doesn’t even realize he’s inching closer until Jason’s sudden shout.

“What the _hell_ , Dick!” Dick jerks back, twisting towards Jason – something _burns_ , red-hot and searing – and a hand clamps down on his arm and yanks him away from the fireplace.

“What –” The movie is abruptly paused and there’s a harsh intake of breath as Jason extends his arm.

His right hand is swollen and red and the pain registers – slowly at first, pins and needles, before it skyrockets up into _unbearable_ and Dick has to choke down a sob, tears burning at the corners of his eyes.

“Why the hell would you _stick your hand_ in the fire?” Jason yells, almost shaking him.

“Cold,” Dick stutters, because his eyes are burning and his face feels swollen and his hand is shrieking but Jason’s hands are on his shoulders and he finally feels a curl of warmth. “It’s – it’s cold.”

Jason turns his ire on Tim, “You said he didn’t have a fever, Replacement, what –”

“I’ve checked his temperature a _hundred_ times, Jason –”

“Well, clearly you messed up,” Jason sneers. Cass hands Jason a medkit and Steph brings a cool bowl of water as Tim puffs up in irritation and Damian watches with wary silence. Jason lets go of Dick to grab the kit and – and Dick can’t help himself.

It’s only one moment, a broken, choked whimper as he leans forward, instinctively chasing after Jason’s warmth – before he realizes what he’s doing and suppresses the reaction immediately. He ducks his head and hopes no one saw.

It’s a futile wish. Jason stares at him, frozen. Cass is frowning. Steph gently lowers his burned hand into the bowl of water and keeps her fingers curled around his arm. Tim lets out a soft gasp and Damian actually takes a half-step forward in concern.

Jason, very slowly, brings his hand back to grasp Dick’s shoulder. Dick can’t stop himself from leaning into the touch, the tears finally escaping as he shakes.

“Hurting,” Cass says softly, “Wants…hug?”

No. _No_. This is exactly what he doesn’t want. He loves all his little brothers and sisters and he knows that they all have complicated relationships with affection and he’s _fine_ and he doesn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable and –

Dick shakes his head, his eyes squeezing shut, but snaps them open when he hears a squawk – a heavy weight is deposited in his lap and he can’t register what’s happening.

Damian scowls fiercely, but curls his hands in Dick’s hoodie and doesn’t move. Dick wraps his injured arm around his youngest brother and squeezes tightly – heat blooms in the void, the chill retreating for the first time in days.

“No,” Dick says, even though he can’t quite let go of Damian, “You don’t need to do this. I’m fine.”

“You stuck your hand into the fire and didn’t even realize,” Jason growls, shifting behind Dick and dropping his weight against Dick’s back. Tim shows up with the thermometer again, glowering, and stays pressed to Dick’s side even as he scowls at the reading.

Steph reappears with a giant purple monstrosity that she uses to nearly suffocate Damian as she squeezes next to Dick’s free side. Cass carefully applies the burn ointment as Dick lets out a shaky breath, and wraps it slowly, her fingers pressing into his arm and holding tight.

“You don’t –” Dick tries again, but Jason cuts him off.

“Is this better?” he asks.

A simple question. Dick can’t bring himself to lie.

“Yes,” he exhales, relaxing fully into Jason’s grasp as he holds onto Damian. Steph’s head is on his shoulder, Tim is tucked up under his injured arm, and Cass wriggles her feet below Dick’s leg, his burned hand in her lap.

The cold lurks out of reach, the absence filled. Dick doesn’t feel hollow anymore.

* * *

Bruce steps into the room ten minutes later, and halts in surprise. His gaze flickers over all of them, taking in everything at a glance, analyzing it with the same intensity he brings to a crime scene. Dick averts his gaze as Bruce nears, unsure of what he’ll find in Bruce’s expression and not prepared to find out.

“Do you want a hug?”

Dick’s gaze snaps up – Bruce is crouching in front of him, furrowed lines in his forehead.

“Yes,” Dick says, and his voice cracks.

He’s nine years old again, and Bruce’s embrace feels like a wall protecting him from the rest of the world. The last icicle cracks and breaks away.

* * *

They run tests – human warmth is the only thing that keeps the cold at bay, and Dick has at least two people pressed to his side at nearly all times of the day. Dick protests, right up until Steph threatens to handcuff Damian to him, at which point he hastily subsides. He likes his limbs where they are, and while Damian may be grudgingly clinging to his waist without a hint of a blade, he is not willing to test that forbearance in the long term.

He can’t muster up a convincing objection anyway. He’s gotten more hugs in the past few days than he has in _months_ and while there’s a part of him churning in guilt for forcing his family into this position, the larger part of him tries to relax and enjoy it while it lasts.

Because it’ll end.

Because the toxin will stop affecting him soon.

Because he’ll probably never get this again.

Dick curls his arms around Tim and lets his chin rest on the younger boy’s hair.

The cold lurks outside his bubble of warmth. Watching and waiting.

* * *

It takes eight days for the toxin to run its course. Eight days before Dick struggles free of the cuddle pile on the bed – Bruce graciously volunteered his ridiculously large bed for the purposes of snuggling, and by _graciously volunteered_ Dick means that Jason dumped him on top of the bed, climbed in after, and Bruce got so misty-eyed that he didn’t even protest at being forced to join the cuddling – and walks to the bathroom and realizes that he doesn’t feel the creeping itch of a void inside of him.

Eight days before Tim tests his blood and says it comes back clean.

Eight days before Dick smiles and ignores the phantom sensation of cold around him.

That one isn’t due to the toxin. That one’s been there for years.

* * *

Dick goes up for lunch and Cass gives him a quick hug before he walks into the kitchen. He freezes, stunned, before dismissing it as a force of habit.

* * *

Tim nods off in the middle of the post-patrol briefing, his head dropping onto Dick’s shoulder, and Dick adjusts his position to support more of Tim’s weight, something in his heart aching.

* * *

Steph crosses her feet in his lap and waves the nail polish. Dick takes it from her with a smile.

* * *

Damian actually _sits on his lap_ at the next movie night, scowling fiercely and jabbing his elbows in Dick’s ribs as he squirms to find a comfortable position. Dick has no clue what the movie is about, he spends the entire time torn between shock and watching for a knife.

The blade never appears.

* * *

“Dickhead,” Jason greets, nearly crushing Dick in an embrace. Dick squeaks for air before Jason decides to let go.

“You know the toxin’s gone, right?” Dick asks, massaging his sore ribs. He hates saying it, but he doesn’t want hugs under false pretenses.

Jason looks at him and raises an eyebrow, “I got the memo.”

“Then why the hug?”

Jason exhales in a rush and eyes the door like he’s looking for an exit. “You always ask us if we want hugs,” Jason says finally, dragging his gaze back to meet Dick’s, “You ever consider telling us when _you_ want a hug?”

He leaves before Dick can think of an answer.

* * *

Dick comes to a stop on the rooftop next to Batman, watching the streets of Gotham far below. It’s getting closer to winter and Dick shivers, the Nightwing suit isn’t built for the cold.

A heavy, warm cape is draped over his shoulders. Dick looks up, startled, but Batman is still staring out into the distance.

“You know,” Dick says softly, his lips twitching, “If you want a hug, all you have to do is ask.”

Batman doesn’t say anything. Dick burrows further into the cape, and smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> I want a cuddle pile. *sobs*

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] touch starved](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28843989) by [MistbornHero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistbornHero/pseuds/MistbornHero)




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